Detention with Draco
by KtPie
Summary: Harry Potter, much to his distaste, has to serve out dentention with Draco. Draco has other plans, and it all ends in...SLASH! mild pwp, short and cute.


Detention with Draco.  
  
*  
  
Detention. What could be worse? Harry asked himself, as he trudged along the Hogwarts corridor like a man walking down death row. Oh, right, detention with Malfoy. Stupid git, he thought angrily. Provoking him into a fight. It's not like he could just stand there while Malfoy insulted his parents - his dead parents no less. It was the usual comments, nothing particularly witty or interesting, right off the top of Malfoy's head. Still - he'd only done it to goad him into a fight. Just as well Malfoy was paying for it too, Harry thought, even if it does mean spending time with him. He almost shuddered at the thought.  
  
The thing was, though, that not many people would have shuddered at the thought of Malfoy, certainly not by their seventh year, when he'd become one of the most lusted after boys in Hogwarts. It had been approaching since an early age - his flawless skin and pale, pale hair had always been there. For sixteen years, he was like a flower, just getting warmed up and ready to bloom. He'd always looked a bit odd, a bit scrawny and out of proportion. Then, like magic, he'd returned after the summer and bam! He was Hogwarts new It boy.  
  
Harry's mood darkened as he thought about the annoying turn of events. He admitted selfishly to himself, that the fact he was no longer in the spotlight as most desirable bachelor got to him. Perhaps it was only the fact that it was Malfoy, he thought. Not that he saw what all the girls were on about. Dreamy eyes? A cold grey glare more like. Great, rippling muscles? Just fists to be dodged when Malfoy's fancy took to hit him. Silky, sleek blonde hair? Well, Harry had to give him that. At least, he comforted himself, Malfoy didn't have a cool scar, or a defeat of Voldemort to his name.  
  
Harry turned left into the dungeon classroom he was meant to have been at five minutes ago. Might as well keep Malfoy waiting, it was his fault anyway. Harry pushed the heavy wooden door open.  
  
"Ah, Potter, nice to have joined us finally," Snape smirked at him. Oh, great. Of all the teachers, it had to be Snape. Harry smiled politely at him, whilst actually imagining him being cut into many pieces, burnt and then stomped on. That, of course, only being a warm up for what he'd imagine for Malfoy's demise.  
  
"Hello, Potter," Malfoy said, turning in his seat and Harry sat as far away from him as the classroom allowed. Harry didn't like the tone of Malfoy's voice. It made him suspicious.  
  
"Lines, I think it will be tonight," Snape said, surveying Malfoy and Harry with an evil gleam in his eye. "Yes, yes, that'll do nicely. 'I mustn't disrupt the corridors with messy and unimaginative magic'. Five hundred, before you can go."  
  
"Each?" Harry exclaimed before he could stop himself.  
  
"Why, Harry, did I hear you volunteer for more? Well then, eight hundred for you, five hundred for Draco," he smiled. "I'll be back, I have much more important things to attend to." Snape made to leave. "Oh, and don't bother trying to use magic. Or rather, do try, Potter, I daresay it will be amusing," he added evilly. The moment her turned his back, Harry glared at him and made a very rude gesture with his left hand.  
  
"Better get started, right, Potter?" Malfoy glared at him meanly.  
  
"Right." Harry said, trying to ignore Malfoy's presence as he pulled out a piece of parchment. He'd completed two lines, before he noticed Malfoy hadn't so much as taken out a pen.  
  
Malfoy's mind, it was safe to say, was on things other than writing lines. Yes, he'd been waiting for an opportunity like this for a long time. Something he'd thought about in details - in fact he knew exactly what to say, for planning it so long.  
  
"Hope you weren't offended by what I said," he said, looking at Harry.  
  
Harry refused to look up at him, instead steeled his jaw and continued to write. He was on his fifth line - only seven hundred and ninety five left, he thought grimly.  
  
"You know, I really do regret that we fight so much," he continued.  
  
Harry looked up in surprise. His voice sounded almost genuine, except for an edge of something Harry couldn't quite put his finger on. He stared silently at Malfoy, waiting for him to continue.  
  
"'Tis terrible we couldn't have been friends..." Malfoy leaned forward, towards Harry. "Really, surprising you chose Weasel to be your friend and not me. Still, it's only human to make mistakes now and then, isn't it? I daresay I've made a few in my time."  
  
Harry'd begun to eye Malfoy suspiciously. Something was definitely up. "Malfoy..." he started, not sure what he was going to say.  
  
"Oh, Harry," Harry's name on his lips sounded like a foreign language. "Please, call me Draco."  
  
"Malfoy," Harry said pointedly. "I'd rather say that not befriending you may have been one of the smartest choices I've made."  
  
Draco recoiled slightly, sitting up a bit straighter. His collarbone, which had once been exposed by his robes, was now decently covered and away from Harry's sight. Thank god, he told himself. Malfoy's naked, pale skin. Almost enough to make me vomit.  
  
"Well, then, Harry," Draco said. "I daresay you'll need a bit of convincing. Oh, yes," he stood up suddenly, letting his chair fall backwards to the floor with an echoing clank. He walked towards Harry's desk - rather like a panther, he moved gracefully and determined, with a terrifying look in his eye. Harry watched, mesmerized, waiting to see what Malfoy would do.  
  
Instead of hitting him, or taking out his wand to hex him, as Harry had expected, he pulled out the seat from the desk in front of Harry. He sat on it, backwards, his legs straddling the back of the chair, his arms folded on top. He leaned forward, and said almost in a whisper, "I can offer you things you'd never known you wanted...things that will make you feel like nothing else..."  
  
"What, Malfoy, didn't the Young Death Eater thing work out for you? Now you're a drug pusher? No thanks."  
  
Malfoy laughed softly. "No Harry, not drugs. He leaned even further forward. "You'd be surprised how deep my friendship can go." He eyed Harry's face - he was staring at him with a look of nonchalance, although beneath it Draco would see something more - a growing look of worry. It seemed, to Harry, that Draco was not quite himself.  
  
"What's that then?" Harry tried not to look at Draco, because what he was seeing began to worry him. He'd noticed the wayward lock of hair that'd fallen into Draco's eyes while he talked. He'd seen the way his mouth tuned up at the corner, in a half smirk, barely detectable. He'd noticed the gentle curve of his jaw - strong, but delicate enough to give the impression his face could have been made from porcelain.  
  
Oh god, Harry thought. It'd bad enough that I've noticed these things - worse that I'm still thinking about them. Oh, yuck. He jerked his eyes from Draco's broad shoulders up to his eyes. Big mistake. The stormy grey orbs looked intently into his own eyes, and at once Harry felt very naked - like Draco could see every inch of him, every thought. That, he thought decidedly, would be a very unfortunate thing indeed.  
  
"So what'll it be, Harry?" Draco finished. In all his thinking and consternation, Harry had completely tuned out.  
  
"About...what?" He said, tearing his eyes away from Draco. This was perhaps the first civil conversation they'd had in all the time they'd known each other. Fifteen minutes in the same room and Malfoy had not yet insulted his family. Must be a record.  
  
"Haven't been listening, Harry?" Draco said. "What I said...was...me and you, together, we could be great," he smiled at Harry, as if he'd been talking of nothing more important than the weather.  
  
"Together?" Harry pushed his chair back slightly. "Me and...you?" At first he tried not to let the disgust in his face show, but then realize none was coming, which was definitely worrying.  
  
"Oh, don't look so shocked," Draco said, straightening up and setting a smug eye on Harry. "Didn't see it coming, did you? Two best looking boys in Hogwarts joining forces...stuff dreams are made of, really."  
  
"Thanks, Draco, but I don't want to know about your pervy dreams about me, thanks all the same though."  
  
There was a pause.  
  
"You called me Draco," Malfoy said. Ahh, he thought. It was working. Soon, Harry wouldn't know up from down, left from right, good from bad.  
  
Harry responded by calling him something far worse than Draco, a name he usually reserved for his cousin.  
  
"Didn't know you could be so dirty, Harry," Draco said, the insult not wavering his confidence. "Really, a good boy like you. Bet you've learnt some dirty talk from Hermione? She always did strike me as a sort of dark horse - really kinky in bed, I suppose?" Draco raised his eyebrow.  
  
Before he could think about his, Harry raised his fist and went for Draco's smooth, perfect cheek. He wanted to break it. But Harry didn't even make contact before Draco had reached up and grabbed his wrist, stopping him dead. He jerked Harry's arm down onto the desk, but didn't let go. Not yet.  
  
"Tsk, got a temper on you, don't you Harry?" Draco loosened his grip on Harry's wrist, taking Harry by surprise when he began to rub his thumb up and down the pink skin. "Really, Harry, I must figure out a way to...calm...you. Any suggestion?"  
  
Harry dragged his eyes from his wrist, which Draco was oh so lightly teasing with the tip of his thumb, up to his eyes. They were burning into his, waiting for an answer. Harry cleared his throat, searching for an answer, but none came to mind. All he could think about was what he could see as Draco leant over. Down his robes...oh, he wasn't wearing a shirt underneath. Damn him. He could see, through the shadows, Draco's small pink nipples, hard and sticking out from his smooth, flawless chest. A whisper of muscles showed, enough to capture the eye but not so much as to spoil his slender frame.  
  
"Well?" Draco interrupted Harry's intense study of his chest. "Do you want to stare at my body a little bit longer, I should I just go ahead and make out with you now?"  
  
"W...what?" Harry said, springing back from his chair, quite forgetting that Draco had his wrist firmly grasped (Oh, how could he forget Draco's touch?).  
  
"Oh Harry, so naive. You're sitting there, eyeing me up like a great big desert and you expect me not to notice...now come here, I want to kiss you." Harry had no choice but to lean forward - Draco jerked his arm with such a force it would have been removed from is socket had he resisted.  
  
The first moment their lips crashed together was awkward, not at all what Harry had suspected. It was like a random accident that by some forces they'd come together and would separate as soon as possible. But Draco's hand slid up behind Harry's head, steadying him, pulling him closer and making sure he couldn't get away.  
  
It was, surprisingly, Harry who initiated the first of the real kissing. His lips grappled for a more comfortable position, finally settling just below Draco's. In an instant, Draco's mouth opened up and it was like an portal, opening to so many new feelings Harry hadn't experienced before. Draco's tongue was warm and soft, comforting almost - so unlike the words that came off it. Once inside Harry's mouth, it began to duel with his own tongue, tangling in circles and spinning around and around. Harry almost felt dizzy for it all.  
  
Draco's grip was released from Harry's arm, slowly, as soon as he thought he'd not struggle any longer. He was right - Harry had melted into his arms, his own to mould at last. He pulled Harry further towards him, then guided him, pushing his back down against the cold stone desk. Harry's eyes sprang open for a moment, and gave Draco a look of something he'd never seen before - not from Harry. Fear.  
  
Harry closed his eyes as fast as he'd opened them. Whatever was happening now - and he didn't like to think about that - was making him feel like he hadn't felt in a very, very long time. This was no time to fight it. Harry's back, now pressed against the desk, was no longer available to his hands, and his hands wanted to touch, to caress, to rub.  
  
For a moment, Draco's hands were gone from Harry's body - and Harry hated to admit that he craved for them back against him. Then something wonderful happened - Draco's warm hands, pulling his robes open and sliding up, under his shirt, coming to rest on his stomach. Well, Harry was a little disappointed about the last part. He ached for those hands to touch him just a little further up, to touch the tiny pink nubs that were dizzyingly aware of every time the cloth of his shirt brushed against them..  
  
"Let's get you out of this, shall we?" Draco's voice came in a whisper, and he pulled Harry's cloak and shirt off, not waiting for permission. With a flick of a few buttons, Draco's robe opened down the center, revealing a peek at his sleek white skin and beautiful stomach, with just a hint of soft blonde hair. Harry let out an involuntary moan. Had he known half an hour ago that he'd be so vulnerable to Malfoy he would have laughed. Now, there was nothing more serious to him than getting every inch of him in contact with Draco's moving, pulsing body. Hmm, speaking of pulsing.  
  
Draco smiled into the moving, set, messy kiss, feeling at last what he'd been hoping for. Something pushing oh so tentatively into his thigh - demanding attention, betraying its owner, waiting to be tended to. Draco's hands, now bored of pushing Harry's nipples this way and that between his first finger and thumb. His left arm snaked down, terribly slowly, too slowly for Harry's taste, but ohhh.when contact was finally made, it was like the whole word was there, just that room, with just the two of them.  
  
"You like that, Harry?" Draco muttered into his ear. "Do you like what I'm doing?" Harry could only nod, even though it meant breaking the kiss - which was no longer the focus of his thoughts or energies. It was all about Draco's hand and the tiny, but important movements it was making.  
  
"Say it, Harry," Draco said, his voice harsher and louder. It only turned Harry on more.  
  
"Yes," Harry moaned. There was an agonizing pause, where Draco's ministrations had stopped and Harry's eyes met his.  
  
"Gotcha, Potter," his voice was cold and taunting again - his bedroom eyes gone, his gentle touch gone. He pushed Harry down against the desk, pushing himself up and off him. He buttoned his robes closed, and ran a hand through his hair. "Harry Potter, seduced by a man in only thirty minutes. What on earth would your mother say?" Malfoy smiled at him evilly, turned back to his own desk. Harry sat up, dazed, too confused to even put his shirt back on. Malfoy fixed Harry with a gloating, smug look. "Oh, what's the surprised face for? You didn't think that I could possibly ever want you?" He sniggered at the thought.  
  
Gathering his things, still an eye fixed on Harry, drinking in every moment of reaction, he walked to wards the door. For a moment he stood still, poised to push the door open and leave. He opened his mouth.  
  
Harry hoped for something - he wasn't sure what, perhaps for Malfoy to come back and assume his position on top of him - to apologize, to explain, to prove he wasn't as bad a person as Harry thought. Draco smiled at him sweetly.  
  
"Oh, would you be a darling, Harry dear, and finish my lines for me?"  
  
- fin - 


End file.
